


Hot Wet Angstporn

by reiley



Series: Pornwood [2]
Category: Torchwood
Genre: M/M, Porn Battle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-21
Updated: 2013-02-21
Packaged: 2017-12-03 04:09:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/693944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reiley/pseuds/reiley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>
  <a href="http://cyus.livejournal.com/16711.html?thread=527431#t527431">originally posted here</a>
</p>
    </blockquote>





	Hot Wet Angstporn

**Author's Note:**

> [originally posted here](http://cyus.livejournal.com/16711.html?thread=527431#t527431)

* * *

Ianto steps out of the en suite, towel hanging loosely off his hips and steam from the shower escaping in great clouds swirling around him. He drips on the carpet of his bedroom floor and sort of wipes it away, more rubbing it in, with his foot.

Jack is leaning against the wardrobe when he looks up. “Feeling better?”

Blinking at him, Ianto gives a slight nod. “Yeah,” he whispers, throat scratchy. His eyes still burn a bit, but the redness should be gone, washed away by the hot water. He just wants to crawl into his bed and die for a little while. He throws the covers back, presses one knee onto the bed and then Jack is behind him, hands at his waist loosening the towel until it slips away from Ianto’s body. He drips onto the sheets now, turning the white a darker grey.

He shrugs it off when Jack tries to wipe the droplets from his shoulders and back; he slides across the bed and sinks into the mattress, lying on his side - facing away, but leaving enough room for Jack behind him. A dark patch spreads across the pillow beneath his wet hair, the cool cotton warming to his body temperature.

A moment later he feels the bed dip and then Jack’s body come up against his back, still fully clothed. Jack kisses his neck, licks a droplet of water up into his hairline. Ianto can feel the soft material of Jack’s shirt and trousers sticking to his wet skin. Jack’s arm slips around his waist, hand over his belly rubbing gently. Ianto watches the wet seep into Jack’s sleeve, dark blooms on his light blue shirt, droplets catching at his cuffs and being swept up.

Jack scratches his fingernails through the damp hair below Ianto’s navel, swirling and spiking it up with his fingers. Ianto pushes Jack’s hand down to his cock, wraps both their fingers around and squeezes a little hard.

“You want to fuck me?” whispers Jack, breath tickling Ianto’s ear, cooling the skin on his neck and making him shiver.

“Uh-uh,” he says, “just this.”

“That’s what you want?” Jack strokes him slowly.

“Yes.” Ianto moves his own hand away, up to clutch at the sheets, and pushes back into the warmth of Jack’s body.

Jack mouths over his collarbone, nudges his shoulder with his head, pushing Ianto down onto his back as Jack moves over him. He kisses Ianto on the jaw, lips, and his mouth is wet. Tongues his way down Ianto’s chest and stomach and lower. “How about this?” he asks, licking up the length of Ianto’s cock before taking it whole in his mouth, sucking hard.

“Yes,” Ianto says, arching slightly off the bed, with his eyes shut tight. A tiny rivulet winds a slow path across his cheekbone to pool in the shell of his ear; Ianto turns his head to wipe it on the pillowcase. Jack’s mouth is warm, hot, tongue too soft as he licks over the head of Ianto’s cock then sucks it between pursed lips. His hands are too big, fingers spread over Ianto’s hips, holding him down. The open cuffs of Jack’s sleeves brush over Ianto’s thighs, through the sweaty, damp hair there, tickling, too light.

Ianto’s breathing becomes rapid; Jack swallows him down again, and he’s getting close. His feet slide up over the slippery sheets, toes curling into the loose fabric of Jack’s shirt. Ianto covers his face when he comes, back bending, heels digging into the mattress, pulling the sheet off the corners. Jack swallows it all - Jack always swallows - and licks him until it almost hurts (but never past that point - Jack always _knows_ ).

When Jack releases him, Ianto rolls onto his side again, and Jack crawls up the bed to lie behind him. He smoothes one hand up Ianto’s side and around his waist, kisses his shoulder. Jack’s clothes are wet now; Ianto can feel them sticking to his skin.

“Better?” Jack asks, and all Ianto can do is nod very slightly. The pillow beneath his face is wet, too, his eyes hot and stinging.

He looks over toward the bedside table, photographs there replaced with a small reading lamp and one of Jack’s paperbacks.

She’s really gone.

* * *


End file.
